


futile devices

by redbatman



Series: season 12 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Episode, Angst, Closeted, Confessions, Emotionally Repressed, Episode: s12e11 Regarding Dean, Flirting, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Temporary Amnesia, Witch Curses, and forget about the existence of the emotional and societal closet, dont u hate it when witches cast a spell on u and u forget about ur internalized homophobia, im sorry its...its sad and im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:56:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9703241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbatman/pseuds/redbatman
Summary: “Whoa, that sounds cool,” Dean says. “Imagine an angel driving my car? That’d be kinda sexy actually.”Sam just blinks at him. “I’ll take your word for it.”“Come on dude, don’t you think about stuff like that?” Dean continues. “Like that guy working the motel front desk is kinda sexy too, don’t you notice that shit? You gotta get a pair of eyes, man.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is an alternate version of season 12 episode 11 "regarding dean". the title is from the song by sufjan stevens.

Dean’s wandered away and is examining the mechanical bull, clearly impressed beyond reason at his forgotten prowess riding Larry. Sam looks at him and sighs.

“So what happened after you two-” _ahem,_ he clears his throat uncomfortably. “I mean, what did he do after-”

She blinks at him for a second in confusion, before dawning realization lights up in her eyes. “ _Oh-_ God no, we didn’t have sex,” she laughs, a quick _ha!_ “Sorry, I guess it must’ve really seemed like it! But no. We just had a few drinks. He actually said that normally he’d be all over me, but he wasn’t really feeling ‘on form’ lately. It was kinda weird, I wondered if maybe there was another girl? But yeah, he ended up leaving through the back door.” She looks over at his brother and smirks. Sam regards him thoughtfully.

Dean swaggers back over to them, but not before casting one last look at the bull. “So, where to next?” he grins.

Sam wonders how many times Dean has actually slept with the women he’s bragged about sleeping with. He’s never thought to question or examine his brother’s sexual history because you know, _ew, gross, brother sex,_ but now he wonders how many other times have just been pretension. Sure in this case, there’s some sort of freaky memory loss involved, but if Sam has known his brother, he suspects that even minus dubious witch influence, Dean would’ve wiggled his eyebrows and _implied._

Come to think of it, Dean rarely just comes out and says _I banged her._ He likes to skirt around the subject with a few pointedly aimed innuendos, a few vaguely nauseating grins. Sam fills in the blanks most of the time, because the blanks are being flung at his head and he doesn’t want to linger on the subject of his brother getting naked for too long. He’s familiar with Dean’s particular brand of overcompensatory masculinity, but he never really considered the idea that Dean maybe outright lies sometimes.

“Sam?” Dean interrupts his train of thought and he hears himself go _huh?_ “You’re staring. Do I have something in my face? Or are you just struck with awe in the presence of a champion.”

Sam blinks rapidly and shakes himself a little bit. “Uh-no,” he says. “Let’s check out back.”

Later in the motel room, Sam wonders what the fuck to do. He’s definitely in over his head and who knows what’s gonna happen to Dean if no one helps him. He can’t even remember his own name anymore, what else will he forget?

Unbidden, an image comes to mind of Dean’s excited face exclaiming _Our best friend is an angel?_ He reaches for the phone and dials Castiel’s number.

“Hello?” Castiel’s voice sounds sleep rough.

“Yeah, hey Cas,” Sam says, scratching his ear and angling away from Dean, who’s sitting on the bed kicking his feet looking like he’s never had a care in the world. Or, more accurately, like he can’t remember the weight of the world ever being put in his shoulders.

“Is everything all right, Sam?” Cas continues and for a moment Sam feels a flash of irritation at the idea that there must be something wrong for him to call. Of course, there is something wrong and his irritation is hypocritical. Not for the first time, Sam reflects on the contrast between the dynamic Castiel has with him vs his brother.

“I’m fine,” Sam says and cringes at himself. “I mean-I’m fine, but Dean’s not fine.” He can practically hear Cas sitting up straight over the line.

“What’s wrong with him?” Castiel says, low and urgent.

“He seems to be...losing his memory?” Sam’s voice lowers to a stage whisper and he turns his back entirely on Dean, who’s now perked up on the edge of the bed and is unsubtly trying to eavesdrop. “I’m in over my head Cas, I could really use some help here.”

Cas breathes in deep. “I’m on my way, text me the address,” he abruptly hangs up and Sam listens to the dial tone in shock for a moment before recovering himself and opening up his messages.

“Who were ya talking to?” Dean asks.

Sam finishes sending Cas the information and looks up at his brother. “Castiel,” he replies bluntly, before noting the confusion in Dean’s face. “Our-your angel best friend.”

Dean’s face lights up. “Wicked! Is he gonna fly here?”

“Uh-” For a moment Sam thought about explaining the war in Heaven to his brain-damaged brother, but then decided against it. “No. He’s gonna drive.”

“Whoa, that sounds cool,” Dean says. “Imagine an angel driving my car? That’d be kinda sexy actually.”

Sam just blinks at him. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Come on dude, don’t you think about stuff like that?” Dean continues. “Like that guy working the motel front desk is kinda sexy too, don’t you notice that shit? You gotta get a pair of eyes, man.”

Sam feels a bit like the floor is spinning. _What the hell?_ “Okay, Dean,” he says, too stunned to try and discuss this with a brother who’s been cursed to forget. He decides to order takeout. Who knows what Dean will do if they go out again before backup arrives? He might forget about looking both ways and walk into traffic.

Castiel knocks on the door when Dean is halfway through messily devouring a large pizza by himself. Sam gets up to let him in.

“How is he?” Cas leans in, voice low and eyes flicking to where Dean is happily masticating.

“He’s-” Sam doesn’t really know how to answer that question. “He’s happy I think? But he’s forgetting everything. He can’t even remember his own _name_ for God’s sake.”

Castiel sighs and strides into the room. Dean’s eyes go comically wide and flick between Sam and the new arrival. He drops the slice of pizza he’s holding and it lands with a wet _smack_ on the cardboard. Walking over to Sam, he leans in and stage whispers. “Who’s this dream boat?”

Sam stares at him, doing his best to keep the shock off his face. “This is Castiel, the angel. You-uh, you call him Cas.”

“Hello Dean,” Castiel says the same way he has a hundred times before. “We’ve met many times before but it’s an honour to meet you again,”

Dean bites his lip. “Hey Cas,” he looks at him from under his eyelashes and sucks suggestively on a finger that’s messy with pizza sauce. Sam feels like he’s fallen into a parallel universe.

Cas blinks at him and- _Sam swears to God he’s gonna commit harakiri_ -adjusts his coat.

“How much time do we have, Cas?” Sam asks, trying to move past the finger sucking elephant in the room.

“I’d say very little,” he replies bluntly. “This is very advanced magic. If we don’t break it soon, he will forget the ability to eat, to sleep, to breathe. Dean will die.”

“Wow, sucks for that guy!” Dean exclaims. Cas and Sam force smiles.

They end up sitting at the tiny motel table, talking quietly while Dean sits happily watching crappy television.

“There’s only one coven I know of in this area,” Cas says. “They’ve been here for centuries, using magic to unnaturally prolong their lifespan. I imagine they would take any threat very seriously, since they so obviously fear death. It would make sense for them to cast a memory spell on a Hunter, to keep their presence here a secret.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “How do we break the curse?”

“We kill them,” Castiel states simply.

“I’ll go and you stay here with Dean,” Sam says and Cas instantly makes a disgusted sound.

“Sam!” Cas exclaims. “You can’t be serious.”

Sam realizes the logic of leaving behind the celestial being at a motel in favour of going it alone as a human might seem bizarre. “Dean can’t be alone here,” he says, trying to sound as persuasive as possible. “I trust you to protect him.”

“But-” Castiel sounds vehement.

“It shouldn’t be that hard to kill the witches now that I know who and where they are. They’re human too, after all. They just have magic,” Sam insists. “And I know it probably sounds dumb, but I need to be the one to do this. He’s my brother, you know?”

Cas makes a noise of grudging acquiescence. “It _does_ sound dumb. But I will keep Dean safe. And you will call me if you want help, or need it.”

“Thank you Cas,” Sam pulls him into a hug. Castiel’s arms stay at his sides for a moment before he overcomes his surprise and returns the embrace before Sam makes his exit.

Dean emerges from the bathroom with red-rimmed eyes like he’s been crying, but an expression that looks like for the life of him he can’t remember ever having anything to cry about. He immediately reinstalls himself on the bed in front of the tv. Castiel is standing, turning in place to marvel at the sticky notes decorating the objects in the motel room.

A few moments pass before Dean speaks up. “So…” he says, his voice lilting and flirtatious. “What’s it like being an angel? I bet you’re so strong.”

“I am, yes,” Cas replies stoically.

“That’s cool,” Dean says, drawing out the _o_ sound. “You wanna sit?” he pats the space next to him on the bed and stares up at Cas.

Castiel’s jaw works a few times. “I’m quite all right standing.”

“Oh c’mon!” he actually _pouts,_ insistently patting the spot. “Watch cartoons with me, buddy.”

Cas sighs, rolling his eyes and sitting down uncomfortably, stiffening even more when Dean shuffles closer to him.

They watch Scooby Doo for a while in silence. Castiel contemplates what this cartoon would be like if the monsters were truly monsters and not just businessmen in costume. A Hunter cartoon for children, that’s a thought.

He startles when Dean suddenly snakes a hand onto his thigh. Right in the middle of Scooby Doo.

“Dean, what are you doing?” he says, holding himself completely still.

Dean shrugs. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” he leans into Castiel’s side. “I mean, you’re _gorgeous,_ I know we can’t just be friends, you know, when I have my memories.”

Cas stands up like he’s been burned. “No, Dean.”

“Oh,” Dean’s pretty green eyes fill with tears. “You don’t want me. Sorry.”

“No-that’s not-” Cas chokes on the lump in his throat. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You aren’t _you-_ ” he turns his back on Dean. “You’re the one who doesn’t want me.”

“But,” Dean stutters. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Cas turns back to look at him with a closed off expression. “I assure you it has made perfect sense time and time again.”

“I want you though,” Dean says. “I know I can’t remember stuff but I feel...safe, around you. And not safe, but in an exciting way like you can show me things I want to be shown. Sam says you’re my best friend. I’m attracted to you. So I think I have to want you for real.”

Cas almost looks angry. “You’d never say that if you weren’t cursed. Do you know how it feels? That you don’t want me unless you’re cursed?”

“But I-” Dean wants to explain himself. He wants to say _that’s not fair._ There’s nothing to say though, he can’t remember anything except that he desperately wants Castiel. His voice trails off in a whisper.

Castiel smiles like he wants to cry. “You know, I’ve been around a long time. So long, that calling it a _long time_ is almost a comical under exaggeration. In all that time though, I never met another being who affects me the way you affect me. I’ve always been a bit of a thorn in the side of Heaven, never quite the perfect angel I wanted to be, but then I met you and I didn’t _want_ to be a perfect angel-I wanted to be with _you,_ however you’d have me, and I-” he chokes and looks down, clenching his fists. “I’m in love with you Dean, and I will be in love with you for all eternity, and when you die I will follow you to heaven if I can because the thought of spending my existence without you is worse than any torture I have been through.”

Dean’s voice is small and quiet. “Why are you telling me this?”

He thinks he can see the ruins of old civilizations reflected in Castiel’s unbearably deep and sad eyes. “Because I know you won’t remember.”

The phone rings and Cas answers it. He then hangs it up almost as quickly. “ _Shouldn’t be that hard to kill witches,_ my ass,” he mutters under his breath and makes for the door. “Dean, we have to go now.”

“Wait-where are we going?” Dean asks, following him into the motel parking lot.

“Your brother Sam needs our help,” Castiel says, feeling for the angel blade in his sleeve. “And I can’t leave you alone in your current state. Get in the car, I’ll drive.”

“Okay!” Dean says dreamily, happily hopping into the passenger seat. He watches Castiel walk around to the other side and slide in the driver’s side, depositing his blade in the space between them. “Hmm...I was right.”

Cas starts up the car. “About what?”

“You _do_ look sexy driving my car,” he grins big and happy.

Castiel gazes at him fondly before putting the car in drive. “Oh Dean,” he says. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

Dean does a _great_ fucking job killing witches if he does say so himself. I mean, Cas does tell him to wait in the car and does kill two out of three, but he got that one in the stairs. He can’t lie, it feels good to know that even after he got glitter bombed with the Dory curse, he’s still got it.

But then Cas asks him what he remembers, and he freezes. _Everything,_ he wants to say. _I remember everything._ He wants to tell him that he remembers telling him he wants him, that he remembers Castiel telling him _I’m in love with you._ He wants to make himself believe this is something he can have.

He could tell himself that it’s worth the risk. That he won’t ruin things and lose Cas. He could try to convince himself he’s ready to be with a man-well, a male-aligned person at least-in the light of day, rather than just in clandestine and anonymous temporary encounters, which make him happy in the moment but in the long run leave him feeling cheaper and more alone than anything. He could tell himself that he deserves to love and be loved, that he isn’t rotten, that he doesn’t have to drag himself through life self-flagellating and trying to redeem himself for his sins, for not being the man his father wanted him to be. He could tell himself that his perception of his own sexuality wasn’t shaped by his necessary past forays into prostitution, that he still places higher value on other’s pleasure than his own, not just physical pleasure but the full presence in a relationship. He could choose to reject the idea that he must always place himself last. He could tell himself all this, and he could tell himself Castiel loves him. He could say that Cas is hurting too, wants him back, wants this. He could say that the reward is worth the risk.

He doesn’t. He lies.

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything, Dean?” Cas is leaning out of the car window.

“Last thing I remember is getting hit with the spell,” he replies, standing next to Sam.

“Well, if you remember anything, call me, okay?” he says.

Dean forces a smile. “Okay, Cas. See you in a few days.”

**Author's Note:**

> uh...i don't know who hurt me.
> 
> ... anyways i'm killvvmaims on tumblr.


End file.
